


if you let me, i'll hold you close

by peachcandle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachcandle/pseuds/peachcandle
Summary: Keith keeps Lance awake. Lance keeps Keith warm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to put so many feelings in this but here they are.
> 
> Thanks to Miss Ki for not only coming up with the best prompts but for letting me use them. <3

Lance settles into a comfortable position, shutting his heavy eyes and pulling his comforter up to his chin. An exhausted sigh escapes him, and he’s ready to sleep like the dead until his alarm goes off. A calm, heavy feeling begins to ebb over him, the prospect of sleep a gentle tease.

And then the sharp, throaty sound of someone coughing has Lance’s eyes shooting open.

Again.

He was so close.

 _‘Oh my God.’_ Lance thinks, as his fingers close around a pillow and he smashes it over his face, holding the ends over his ears. It’s a useless gesture. Every choking cough and rattling inhale is still completely audible, louder and more prominent in the silence. The walls in this apartment complex are gossamer thin. Lance would know.

This is the third night in a row that Lance’s neighbor’s coughing has kept him awake-- and Lance has tried everything to block out the sound. Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but he’s tried enough. Earplugs. Listening to soothing ocean sounds, to white noise at full volume through his headphones. Shoving his fingers in his ears. Flat out ignoring it and trying to force himself to sleep.

The soundtrack of his neighbor’s chest cold always filters through.

The silence persists for a few seconds, but Lance is wary. It never lasts. He drags the pillow down from his face to his chest, and glares at the cracks in the ceilings. Over the past few days, he’s looked at them enough to have their spidery patterns memorized. After a few more minutes of silence, Lance tentatively allows himself to relax. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the point in the night where his obnoxiously ill neighbor has finally managed to drift into their own uneasy sleep.

He slips the pillow back to it’s rightful position behind his head, turning to fluff it a little for maximum comfort. He deserves it. Oh, fuck yes. This is gonna be so good. He settles back down, letting his eyes slip shut, feeling his lashes ghosting his cheeks. Soon, the calm heaviness returns. Lance starts to drift off...

And then a loud, wet sneeze ends his short lived peace.

“Oh my GOOOOOOOOOD! Shut _UP!_ ” Lance groans, voice cutting through the darkness. It’s throaty and loud and as soon as he’s finished saying it, he runs his hands over his face and feels like an asshole. The wall definitely works both ways.

Lance desperately wants to be reasonable. Obviously, and very obviously at that, his neighbor is having a hard time. Judging by everything Lance has been forced to hear, they can barely breathe. Their ribs must be aching. And they definitely aren’t getting any rest either. A little sleep deprivation is so miniscule in comparison, but damn it, he’s tired and cranky and it’s past 1 in the morning and it’s the _third fucking night._

With a low growl, Lance rolls over onto his stomach, angrily grabs two pillows to put over his head, and then throws his sheets over his head too, for good measure. Anything to block out the sound. This setup is uncomfortable, too stuffy and suffocatingly warm, but at this point, Lance is okay with making sacrifices. He’s exhausted. He just wants to go to bed.

Mercifully, the silence remains.

-  
A shrill ringing has Lance gasping himself awake an hour later. He flings himself into a sitting position, sending half his pillows crashing to the floor in the process. A white light is flashing in the corner, almost blinding in the darkness, and he raises a hand to shield his eyes from it. Lance can already hear the calm, mechanical voice instructing him to remain calm as he evacuates the building playing in his head before it comes on the intercom.

Fucking great.

The whine of the alarm grows louder, and he yawns, stumbling out of bed with the intent of locating a sweatshirt. It’s winter, the wait outside is bound to be cold and unpleasant. He reaches for a heavy blanket and swaddles it around himself after he’s got the sweatshirt on, then staggers around in the dark looking for his shoes.

The dim light in the hallway feels too intense, and Lance squints as his eyes as they adjust. He trudges out, joining the sea of his equally groggy neighbors, all tired eyes and grumpy faces. Once they hit the stairwell, the alarm begins to echo off the walls, an ugly reminder of the inconvenience.

“Do you know what’s going on?” He asks the person beside him. They shake their head, offering an eyeroll of solidarity. “This fucking sucks.” They nod, and Lance spends the rest of his walk wishing he were back in bed.

Cold air clings to the area near the door, flowing in as people walk out. Lance flinches as he approaches it. He pushes his way into the center of the crowd, trying to leech off other people’s body heat. Low murmurs and hushed complaints surround him, and he picks up on bits and pieces as he continues to walk.

What he gathers is this: It’s freezing outside. It’s too early in the morning. Absolutely no one knows why the fire alarm is going off.

Thick snowflakes settle in Lance’s hair seconds after he steps outside. He runs a hand through it, and it comes away cold and wet. A quick glance up only confirms that there are light flurries slowly falling towards him, pale confetti raining down from a black sky. It would be a pretty sight, if the situation were different.

What lovely weather to be stuck outside in during a fire alarm.

Not.

Lance huffs, annoyed, and watches his breath escape and dissipate into the air.

The drill is always to go further into the parking lot while they await the arrival of the fire department, so Lance begins to follow the herd, stifling a misty yawn in his fist. People are huddling together, crossing their arms and blowing on their hands to warm themselves up, sniffling and grumbling about the snow and the cold. Plumes of white are everywhere.

Lance silently thanks himself for thinking to bring this blanket.

A familiar sounding, throaty sneeze has Lance stopping in his tracks and swiveling his head around, a spike of irritation running through him. How could he not? This sound has only kept him awake for hours. He searches for the source and spots them easily, because they’re the only one standing still in this moving tide of people. Lance watches as they snap forward with another sneeze, hands steepled over their face, seeming to curl in on themselves. When they come up, they’re brushing their mullet out of their face, and-- wait. Wait just a hot second. Mullet?

Lance freezes, jaw hanging open.

That’s -- “Keith?” Lance exclaims before he can stop himself.

Holy shit. That’s Keith Kogane from Physics class. Keith Kogane from Physics is his neighbor.

Keith had always been quiet, choosing to sit towards the back of the classroom, and always by himself. And Lance had always found him the slightest bit intriguing, not because Lance was drawn to him or because he was a mystery of a person that Lance was dying to solve, or some stupid cliche reason like that, but because Keith always turned in quizzes and tests a few seconds before he did. It was infuriating, and, okay, fine. Lance fixated.

One day, Keith had been in his lab section, and Lance had shot up, immediately volunteering to be his partner. He had to know just how smart, how capable his competition was. And Keith had ended up being really nice, if not a little snappish when Lance made jokes. They got along well, got done first, got the best results. Lance had really, really wanted to be his friend, wanted to talk to him for hours and hours. Keith’s company was something he wanted to hang on to, so he started talking to him in lecture. It was always easy, always nice. He thought about it all the time, talked about Keith all the time.

“Geez, Lance.” Hunk had nudged him in the ribs, “Sounds like you’re in love with the guy.” Lance had squawked and crossed his arms and responded with a long stream of incoherent excuses. And God, how his face had burned.

It was true. His little fixation had grown into a big, stupid, ugly crush on Keith Kogane.

Physics ended, like all things do. Which meant the end of seeing Keith periodically. And after that, Keith was standoffish. Lance tried and tried and tried to be his friend. He waved at Keith whenever he saw him on campus, smiled in his direction, inviting him over with a glance. And Keith always looked away. One time, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and it was the most Lance ever received. He definitely never waved back. It stung, but Lance kept trying until he didn’t want to anymore. Whatever he felt for Keith was fleeting, he decided. And that was fine.

That big, stupid crush? He’s over it now. Really, he is. It’s a wrinkle in his shirt, an imperfection in the crease of his sheets.

Besides, none of that is important. What is important, is that Keith Kogane is Lance’s freaking neighbor. Not only his neighbor, but _the_ neighbor.

And he sounds like he’s struggling.

Past crush be damned, Lance can’t deny the overwhelming urge he suddenly feels to get to Keith.

Keith tilts his head, looking back at Lance before ducking forward into another coughing fit. Lance starts to push his way through the other tenants, ignoring their protests and dirty looks as he fights against the current.

“Lance?” Keith croaks out, scrubbing at his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Lance’s eyebrows furrow once he’s close enough to get a good look at Keith. His hair is a tangled, knotty mess, and he looks exhausted and shaky, like he hasn’t been sleeping well. A faint flush in his pale cheeks and the bright red tinge surrounding his nose are discernable in the dim lighting. He’s bundled up in only a sweatshirt and shivering hard. In a word, he looks sick. Sick enough that Lance’s chest begins to feel tight.

“Yeah, hey. The one and only.” Lance grins, “I didn’t know you lived in this building too.” Keith nods and sniffles, makes a small, ‘mhmm’ sound. Snowflakes are clumping together in his hair, standing out against his inky locks. The whole exchange makes him look smaller and sicker and colder. Lance opens his mouth to say something else, but then he notices that all the other tenants are gone. They’re the only two people left in this part of the parking lot. Two bodies collecting snow underneath streetlights.

“Come on,” he says, nodding in the direction of the crowd, “Think we need to move a little more that way.”

“Yeah,” Keith grunts.”Yeah we do.”

Lance takes a step forwards and then looks back, checking to see if Keith is following. They walk together towards the edge of the lot, eventually settling down in a less crowded area. There are no overhangs, no trees. No shelter from the falling snow.

Lance turns, about to say something, when Keith’s breath hitches sharply. He watches as Keith’s features draw together helplessly, before Keith pitches forward with another sneeze that sounds like it’s scraping it’s way out his throat.

“Bless you. Sounds like you’ve got a pretty bad cold.” Keith sniffles and nods with a grimace, He rubs his nose roughly, and then lightly presses his fingertips to his throat before wrapping his arms back around his chest.

“Can’t seem to get rid of it.” He says softly.

“Ah, jeez. Being sick is never any fun.” Lance says, trying to be sympathetic. Keith shakes his head in agreeance. Lance starts to hear a faint clicking noise, and he realizes that it’s Keith’s teeth beginning to chatter. He doesn’t have much time to think about it before Keith’s breath is catching again, and he’s losing himself in harsh coughing fit that leaves him trembling noticeably harder. It’s been awhile since the last time they talked, but still. Lance really hates seeing him this miserable.

“Hey,” Lance is already unwinding the blanket from his shoulders, immediately feeling the urge to shiver in its absence. “Here, take my blanket.” He holds it out, offering it to Keith. For a split second, and Lance knows he sees it, Keith’s eyes flash with longing.

Lance remembers that when Keith frowns and shakes his head. “I can’t take that. It’s yours.”

“Yeah, but you’re _freezing_ , dude. Just take it.”

Keith huffs out a cloud of white and shakes his head again, a little more defiantly. “It’s fine, really, I don’t n-” Another series of harsh coughs cuts him off, leaving him hunched over and still weakly trying to splutter out the words, ‘don’t need it’.

With a sigh and a small shake of his head, Lance walks around Keith and starts to rub his back gently. It doesn’t occur to Lance that he might be overstepping any boundaries until his hand is already settled. Oops. Growing up with so many siblings has made comfort his first instinct. So Lance rubs his back until Keith’s coughing subsides, and if Keith is bothered by it, he doesn’t say. Gingerly, Lance starts to wrap the blanket around Keith’s shoulders.

“Hey, seriously,” Keith’s voice is a ragged whisper, “ you really don’t have to-”

“Well I am.” Lance shrugs, walking back around so that he can face Keith. “You’re welcome. I know you’re thinking it.” With his disheveled hair and rosy cheeks, Keith looks pretty damn adorable wrapped up in Lance’s blanket. Especially with that pout. Not that Lance is paying attention to that.

“You’re looking warmer already,” Lance says, as he crosses his arms over own chest. Keith pulls the blanket tighter around himself, clutching the edges, and Lance swears he sees a smile teasing at Keith lips, his cheeks flushing a little pinker.

“Thank you.”

“I knew it.” Lance lets out a short laugh, then grits his teeth to keep them from chattering. The cold air is seeping through his sweater now, unforgiving as it chills him to the core. His nose begins to run. He sniffles and rubs it absentmindedly with his wrist.

Keith gives him a once over and then frowns deeply. Lance cocks an eyebrow, a lopsided grin already beginning to form. He can’t resist.

“You checking me out, Kogane?”

Keith crosses his arms and scowls.

“I wasn’t.” He says, a little too quickly, “You’re shivering now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance assures him with a light pat on the shoulder, “I’m sure they’ll let us back in soon. I can handle it.”

“If you’re sure.” Keith says, frown still there. He raises his elbow and coughs again, just two, short and sharp. His face crumples in pain as he lightly touches his throat again, “My throat is killing me.”

“Sounds like it,” Lance agrees. The he adds, “Have you tried any tea? That’s always been my go-to for a sore throat.” Because he hadn’t meant to sound so tactless.

Keith shakes his head, “I don’t have any.”

“Really? Looks like you’re in luck. I’ve got some. I’ll make some for you once they let us back in.” Lance says, cutting a longing look back at their apartment building. It’s a fuzzy view, blurred by the falling snow. The fire lights are still flashing, and it feels like they’ve been out here for hours. Well, no. He’s being dramatic. It’s been maybe 10 minutes. When Lance looks back at Keith, he surprised to see a look of surprised gratitude on Keith’s face, immediately followed by a look of guilt.

“It’s really late,” Keith stifles a yawn, as if to prove his point, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Mm.” Lance cups his chin in his hand, pretends like he actually has something to contemplate. He turns back to Keith with a warm smile, “Nah, I insist.” Keith’s lips twitch upwards before he looks down, Lance swears he saw it.

“Okay.”

Lance resists the urge to smile. Keith is so damn cute. After that, there’s a bit of an awkward pause. It’s not completely unwarranted; it is below freezing and it is way too late to be awake. Still, Lance feels the need to fill the silence. The fire department is nowhere in sight.

Lance clears his throat, then starts with something they have in common: Physics. Keith turns to him, a little slow at first, but he responds nonetheless. Most of Keith’s responses are short and noncommittal, but it’s obvious that he’s invested in what Lance has to say. He even laughs a few times. It’s a warm sound, despite the way it crackles in his throat. It threads its way into Lance’s chest and makes him feel light. So he keeps talking, finding that conversation with Keith is still easy and natural.

Eventually, Lance moves into topics he’s more comfortable with, more personal things. His family, Hunk, funny situations he’s found himself in. The conversation is mostly centered around him, but Keith seems grateful for the distraction. He’s in the middle of telling Keith the story about the time his sister broke his foot when he notices that Keith has been quiet for a while. Lance starts to trail off, suddenly uncertain.

Oops. Maybe he’s been misreading the situation. Maybe he got a little too comfortable, too fast. Interacting with Keith up to now has just been so easy, but then again. They’ve had one class together, it’s not like they’re close friends. Keith couldn’t even wave back to him after Physics ended. Lance suddenly feels stupid. So stupid. Tension starts to settle in his shoulders, and then he bites his lip and looks away.

Idiot.

“Keep going.”

Lance’s eyes widen, heading snapping back up. “Huh?”

“I just wanted to give my throat a break,” Keith explains, bringing a hand up to rub his nose. “But I’m still listening. Keep going.”

So Lance does.

The longer he talks, the less it distracts him. It’s bitterly cold out. The longer they wait out here, the worse it feels. His cheeks are numb, his fingers are numb, his snot is freezing. Snow is beginning to soak through his sweatshirt. Where is the fire department? Keith’s been yawning. Lance starts to bounce on his heels, trying to generate some heat as he tells Keith about the time he saved a sea turtle.

“Hey,” Keith interrupts, nudging Lance gently. “If you’re getting too cold you can take this back.”

Lance quickly shakes his head. “Definitely not.” Keith sniffles and looks away, twisting his lips to the side. Lance hears him sigh, sees it too.

“If you’re not afraid of getting sick, we could share it?” Keith shifts hesitantly, as if he's afraid.

Holy shit.

Is Keith _nervous_?

As if Lance could possibly say no. He nods, and Keith raises an arm up to let him in.

The blanket isn’t big enough to cover both of them all the way. It stretches out enough to protect their backs from the cold, but that’s the extent of its coverage. A sharp wind picks up, berating them both, and Lance hisses out as he shivers. Beside him, Keith begins to tremble twice as hard, huddling closer to Lance.

It makes Lance want to wrap Keith up in his arms and warm him up, but he refrains. That’s a little too much.

“Cold?” He asks, and as Keith turns to answer his breath snags sharply. He swivels away, clamping both hands over his mouth as a series of short, stunted coughs leave his lips. It’s obvious that he’s trying to suppress them for Lance’s sake.

“Hey,” Lance murmurs, letting his hand wander to Keith’s back. “Easy. It’s okay, just let em’ out.”

“Sorry,” Keith splutters out on a gasping breath, letting himself give in to the demands of his rattling lungs. He hacks until he’s winded and his eyes are watering. “Sorry,” He repeats.

“It’s totally fine. Don’t worry about it at all.” Lance frowns, and then repeats his question from earlier, but this time with a little more demand in his tone, “Are you cold?”

“Can you tell?” Lance rolls his eyes at Keith’s monotone.

“Obviously not. Do you mind if--” Lance scoots closer to Keith, close enough that he can feel the solid weight of Keith’s body pressed against his own. Keith raises his eyebrows, and Lance finds himself looking at the ground, the tips of his ears turning red. “Just for the body heat, you know?” One of his arms is hovering just beside Keith’s waist, itching to pull him in closer as soon as Keith give the okay. But Keith doesn’t say anything. The longer the question sits in the air, the more awkward the silence becomes, and the more Lance is starting to regret saying anything at all. He glances at Keith, searching for something that he can’t find. “Well, okay. I mean I don’t _have_ to. I just-- you know, like… Don’t like how much you’re shaking, is all.” Lance explains sheepishly, “ I’m not trying to be weird.” Lance starts to withdraw his arm. It’s okay. It’ll be put to good use wrapped around his own chest, anyways, and Lance will only beat himself up over this for the next month.

The blanket loosens around his shoulders, and Lance’s heart nearly stops when a hand weakly grasps his wrist.

“I don’t mind.”

Lance breathes a sigh of relief, then looks over with a small smile. He lets his hand settle snug around Keith’s waist, and then pulls him in close. Although Keith is still shivering, it slowly begins to decline from harsh shudders to fine tremors. This close, the wheeze in Keith’s lungs is audible and concerning, and Lance thinks can feel a bit of feverish heat radiating onto him. And the fire department is still nowhere in sight.

A heavy sigh from Keith grabs Lance’s attention. “You getting tired?” Lance asks, and Keith nods, rubbing one of his eyes and leaning a little heavier against Lance. Whether this is intentional or not, Lance can’t tell, but the rising blush it leads to is something Lance can’t help. Lance, unable to control himself, rests his head briefly against Keith’s. “Me too, pal. Me too.” It’s true. Lance’s energy is waning with the passing time. He’s cold and exhausted and sick of being snowed on.

“Don’t feel good. I haven’t been sleeping.” Keith mutters, in a voice so scarce that Lance has to pause to make sure he heard the words right. He thinks back to his little outburst earlier and his stomach knots with guilt.

Lance shifts a little, biting his lip. “If you want to lean against me you can.” As soon as the words are out, a rush of nervous anticipation fills his body. He feels an immediate need to explain himself, “You know, just until the-” A cold weight settles on his shoulder, wisps of hair tickling his neck. Lance promptly shuts up. He stays quiet, focusing on the sounds of Keith’s congested breathing.

Later, much, much too late for comfort, red and blue lights fill the parking lot. By then, Lance is about ready to fall asleep, too groggy to feel as relieved as he should. Keith has coughed and sneezed on him more times than he can count, all followed by sleepy, mumbled apologies. It’s gross, but Lance just can’t bring himself to be mad.

He watches through half lidded eyes as the firemen enter the building, then stares vacantly at the snowy scenery around him until the fire lights finally, finally cease flashing.

Gently, Lance nudges Keith to rouse him. “Hey, Keith. Buddy.” Keith blinks up at him, groaning softly. It’s not adorable. Seriously, it’s not. “Looks like we can go in.”

After a drowsy nod from Keith, Lance unhooks his arm and sheds the blanket, offering it solely to Keith. The loss of warmth is immediate. He crosses his arms and grits his teeth to keep them from chattering. They make their way back to the apartment, blending into the sea of tenants, a chorus of footsteps crushing fresh fallen snow.

Lance holds the door open for Keith, who nods in thanks. Underneath all the footsteps, Lance can make out Keith’s labored breathing.

“What floor are you on?” Keith asks, breaking the silence between them.

“Hmm?” Lance mutters, looking over at Keith. “Oh. Third.”

“Me too.” Keith smiles softly, and Lance rides that high all the way up to the third floor.

“You ready for that tea?” Lance pushes the door to their floor open. The sight of his hallway floods him with relief.

“Mhmm. Can’t wait. What did you say it would be? The best tea I’ve ever had?”

“Yep! You can bet on that,” Lance says, stopping in front of his room. “You’ll love it.” Lance looks over, finding that Keith’s face has drained of color. A flicker of something Lance doesn’t like passes over his eyes, and then his expression hardens.

“You live here?” Keith asks. He sounds clipped and calculating. Lance raises an eyebrow, confused.

“Yes?”

Keith’s gaze drops to the ground, “I’ve been keeping you awake.” Lance’s stomach sinks. Of course. The walls are thin, after all. He wants to say something, needs to say something, but his mouth isn’t forming words.

“It’s fine,” Is the best he can come up with. “It's nothing, really.” Even to Lance it sounds half-assed and insincere.

Keith’s eyes slide from the ground to his door, which he opens without so much as a glance over. “I don’t think I need that tea anymore. You should probably get to bed.”

“You sure? It’s really no problem. I don’t mind at all.”

“I’m tired, Lance. We were out there for an hour. Take it easy, okay?” The Keith from earlier, the sweetly forward one full of soft smiles, is gone, replaced by this new Keith that's detached and cold. Lance isn't an idiot, he can imagine how Keith felt hearing Lance’s complaints.

“Ah, okay… yeah.” Lance trails, raising an arm up to rub his neck. “Goodnight, Keith.” He says, but Keith's door is already shut and locked.

Lance walks into his room feeling like his chest has been hollowed out.

As soon as the door is closed, he slides down against it, putting his face in his hands and tufting his hair in his fingers.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

His mind starts to run through different scenarios, things he could’ve said, ways he could’ve handled that better. Only he could spend a night keeping someone warm and then leave them cold and angry.

The muffled sound of Keith’s coughing interrupts his thoughts. It makes Lance look up, makes him glance at the wall with a mix of longing and sympathy. With a tired sigh, he gets up.

Determined to make amends, he makes his way to the kitchen and gets everything he needs. He fishes out a box of tea, sets a small pot of water on the stove to boil, finds some honey, slices a lemon in half, retrieves a blue mug from the cabinet. He’s exhausted, so some of his actions are clumsy, but he won’t let himself go to bed until he’s at least _tried_. The water starts to boil, and Lance pours some into the mug, splashing a little on the counter. He stirs in the honey and lemon, getting a little lost in the way the spoon clinks against the porcelain.

Okay, that’s everything he needs...right? Maybe?

Staring down at the mug on his counter, it seems like a pretty pitiful peace offering. Lance fishes out a plastic bag from under the sink, then he throws the whole box of tea in it. His honey and a few lemons too. It’s not like he can’t buy more. The he finds a piece of paper and a pen, hastily scrawling out his phone number and :

_‘Hey, I’m really sorry about what I said. It was really rude and not cool at all. :( Please text me if you need anything.’_

then throws that in too.

Granted, it’s a really haphazard plan, but it’s the best Lance’s foggy mind has got. He slips the bag around his arm then picks up the mug. Gently, he opens his door and slips out into the hallway. A few steps later, he’s in front of Keith’s room. His chest knots with nervous dread as he knocks.

Silence. Total silence.

The heavy feeling in his chest only grows worse as he waits. Lance sighs, scuffing his shoes against the carpet. He keeps staring at the door, willing it to open. Seconds that feel like hours pass, and it doesn’t, but Lance just can’t bring himself to leave.

Somewhere behind the door, Keith starts to cough again. Knowing that Keith is still awake gives Lance the courage to knock again, and this time, Keith swings the door open almost immediately, a scowl plastered on his face.

“What do you want?” His broken voice makes him seem a lot less intimidating.

Lance holds up the tea, holds up the bag.

“To apologize. I’m really sorry about that-what I did earlier. And I made you tea anyways, because it sounds like you need it.” Keith’s face is unwavering, unsettling, but Lance keeps talking, because he feels like he won’t forgive himself if he doesn’t. “You said you didn’t have any tea, so I put some of mine in here. I just… thought you could use some.” He finishes lamely. There’s a horrible moment of silence where Keith just stares at him. But then Keith nods and everything defrosts.

Keith reaches out, relieving Lance of all his tea. “Thank you.” He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t seem as cold as he did before.

“Yep. You’re welcome.” Lance bites his lip, starting to back up. “Um, get some rest. Feel better. Goodnight.”

Keith’s expression softens, and a small smile ghosts his lips.

“Goodnight, Lance.”

And then his door is shut and Lance is alone in the hallway.

When he crawls into bed, he's still a little on edge, trying to process the last hour. He falls asleep thinking of Keith.

The walls are silent.

-  
Lance has three new messages from an unknown number when he wakes up.

(Unknown 9:37 am)

Hey, Lance? It’s Keith.

(Unknown 9:39 am)  
I have a confession. I don’t know how to make tea.

(Unknown 9:52 am)  
I need you to show me how to make it.

Laughter bubbles out of him as he rolls out onto his back.

Doesn’t know how to make tea? What a dork.

A loud thump sounds out from next to him, like someone’s just body slammed the wall, and Lance yelps in shock. He stares at the empty space beside him, muscles taut and adrenaline rising until it clicks. Keith. With a smile, Lance hops out of bed and knocks back twice.

(Lance 11:12 am)

Be right over. :)

-

A week later, at some ungodly hour in the morning, Lance is hacking a lung up. It’s hard to stop because he’s trying to muffle the sound into his sheets, drawing the same shaky breaths of air in, over and over again. It’s miserable, and he feels disgusting, but he’s trying his hardest to be quiet because he knows the walls are thin. He grabs for his water bottle with shaky fingers, trying to soothe the rawness in his throat. This is what he gets, he supposes, for sharing that blanket with Keith when the fire alarm went off. And maybe it’s a little karmic, too. He wonders how Keith survived, because this, he thinks, is the worst cold he’s ever had.

All he can think about right now is tea. The warm, sweet liquid sliding down his throat. He’s been fantasizing about it, but he gave everything he had to Keith.

He’s in the middle of blowing his nose when he hears someone rapping lightly on his door. Lance pauses, blood turning to ice. The last thing he wants to be doing is keeping someone else up. He staggers out of bed, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his hair, ready to apologize profusely for being so sick. The words ‘I’m sorry’ are already forming in his throat as he unlocks the door, but he doesn’t need to use them.

“Keith?” At the sound of his name, Keith looks up. He’s wearing a black v-neck and grey sweatpants, and his hair is in a low ponytail. In his hands is a steaming mug.

“Hey,” Keith says, almost shyly. He thrusts the mug out to Lance, and Lance swears Keith’s face is turning pink. “I made it how you showed me, stirred in the honey and lemon and everything. Sounds like you could use it.”

Lance’s chapped lips part in surprise, and then he breaks into a grin so wide it makes his cheeks hurt.

“Thank you!” He rasps, so grateful that he’s reaching out, pulling Keith into a tight hug. Keith’s protests of, “Fuck, Lance!” are completely ignored.

Holy shit. Keith just made him tea. The Keith Kogane just made him tea.

Right now, Lance doesn’t care that he can’t breathe through his nose. Doesn’t care about his sore throat or his aching ribs or the many late nights ahead of him. Because, Holy hell.

Keith Kogane. Came to his door. With tea.

Alright, fine. He’s not over that big, stupid crush. It doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t want to be.

“Lance, let go. You’re going to make me spill this.” It sounds like a demand, but Lance can hear the smile in Keith’s voice. He doesn’t need to swear on it this time, he knows it’s there.

 _‘That’s okay,’_ He thinks, _‘Let it spill.’_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on writing a short follow up from Keith's POV that explains a little more about why he's so on and off when I have time :')  
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading this!! As always! I appreciate it more than you know!


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